December 21, 2014

Silver Shoes and Rabbit Holes.

Too Many Books… No Such Thing
Are there ever too many books? I don’t think so.
As much as I enjoy the practicality and freedom of the Kindle and the iPad, nothing beats the beauty of the book.
It truly is a case of the more the merrier.
I am a committed reader… and I have always believed that there is never loneliness or boredom with a good book around.
Characters and plots become part of my live and it’s sad when their tale is told. Like fare-welling a best friend.

I remember a visit to Zurich… I stayed in a hotel that boasted 33,000 books.
The dining room was lined floor to ceiling with books.  Worn and loved not precious or perfect with matching bindings.  Words in all languages filled and overflowed the space it was quite breathtaking.
The thought of all that creativity, knowledge and passion in one space was quite something.
We can never read enough and there is no such thing as too many books.

(B2 Boutique Hotel, Z├╝rich, Switzerland
An old Brewery turned into a hotel by the architect Althammer Hochuli. All i can say this hotel clearly knows how to ensure a relaxing stay for its guests… perfect!)

And now, here we are, another year past, wind stormed off the calendar, with nary a moment shared.  May you live in joy, warmth, love, good health and gratitude in the coming days and may we all sleep in heavenly peace.

October 17, 2014

Dante's Lesson.

A year ago I stumbled onto Dan Brown’s Inferno.  To compare some of the quotes I opened a copy of Dante’s Inferno, not the video game, but the first book of the Commedia trilogy, and began to read the first lines:

“Midway along the journey of our life
I woke to find myself in some dark wood,
for I had wandered off from the straight path...”

Yes, I thought, I know what that’s like. 

I kept reading and did not stop until weeks later, after I had drudged with Dante through Hell, climbed with him up the mountain of Purgatory, and blasted through the heavens to see Paradise.

“How hard it is to tell what it was like,
this wood of wilderness, savage and stubborn
(the thought of it brings back all my old fears),
a bitter place! Death could scarce be bitterer.
But if I would show the good that came of it
I must talk about things other than the good.”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

I am reading...

  • scribble, scribble, scribble, Simon Schama
  • Julia's Cats, Patricia Barey and Therese Burson
  • London, Edward Rutherfurd
  • I'll Drink to That, Betty Halbreich